Dum Dadada DUM! I present the newest chapter! And was it fun to write! I do apologize for taking so long to get it up! (I know I promised before the weekend Kealeuu!)
But here it is anyway! I do hope you all enjoy it! (Especially the last half! Let me know your thoughts on that!)
Now, without further ado!
Chapter 6
How the heck did this happen to him?
Luke couldn't help thinking as he and Clancy helped Vader remove his armored boots, thus exposing the further extent of the Sith Lord's injuries.
Thankfully, it was easier to handle the sight of the skeletal and battle worn prosthetics, which extended from mid thigh to crude approximations of human feet, their toes metallic and sharp.
"Your staring again Annakin…" Clancy nudged, reaching for a tool to unfreeze the Dark Lord's ankles.
"Sorry, they're just so…"
Droid-like? Inhuman? Substandard? I know.
Startled, Luke looked to Clancy, barely masking his confusion.
Where the heck did THAT come from?!
"Hey, I need that tool right there Annakin, if you don't mind.. Annakin?" Clancy waved a grease covered hand in front of blank eyes. "Hello?"
"Gah, sorry Clancy, here you go." Luke distractedly passed the small tool.
"I love how you guys talk like I'm not here," Vader joined the conversation out of nowhere, all the while focusing on soldering several interface wires back together on his right leg, "I'm only attached to that hunk of metal and wires you two are constantly gawking at."
"Sorry Vman, we figured you were busy with fixing... Well, yourself I guess..." Clancy gestured awkwardly at the metallic limb, "How'd it happen anyway?"
"... An old friend of mine did this to me at the end of the Clone Wars.." The Dark Lord growled, unconsciously flexing his left hand.
Luke wasn't sure if it was a Force thing or not, but he could tell that more than Vader's mutilation had twisted him into this monster.
Was my father responsible for these injuries?
"Ouch... Betrayal, ya gotta love it..." Clancy responded, still trying to get the Sith's feet (if they can be considered that) functioning again.
"How old were you when this happened?" Luke spoke up as Vader started calibrating the interface on his leg.
Heck, if I'm putting my father's murderer back together, I might as well learn something while I'm at it...
Of all the questions he just had to ask!
I couldn't help but bristle at 'Annakin's' inquiry as to my age, it was not something I shared lightly.
In fact, I even went so far as to remove any records of my age as Darth Vader. Even my medics are unaware of my true date of birth. As far as they are concerned, I came into existence on the first Empire Day. As if I were a physical manifestation of it. But now that I think about it...
How old am I anyway?
After some two decades in this blasted suit, age tends to lose its importance.
Deleting your birthday doesn't help either...
How many years has the Empire been around? Eighteen? Nineteen years?
Force, that mishap with the hyperdrive must've fried more than my prosthetics...
"Forget about it," Luke dismissed, taking Vader's momentary silence as a refusal to answer, "Clancy? You done with the synth-oil yet? I need to realign a piston over here..."
"Twenty-three."
"What?" Startled, he turned quickly to Vader, who was now closing up the panel on his calf.
"I was twenty-three when it happened."
Kreth!
Luke gaped in shock, looking back and forth between Clancy and the Dark Lord, still trying to register exactly what Vader meant.
It means that he's spent nearly half his life as a cyborg you idiot!
"Sith... Who was this old friend of yours?!" Clancy looked up from what he was currently working on, eyes wide.
"That is none of your business Clancy," Vader admonished, waving a hand, "You may be my personal mechanic and one of the few people I can tolerate in this galaxy, but that does not mean I will divulge my life story to you."
"Couldn't hurt to try right?" He offered, innocently holding up his hands, now finished with the repairs needed on his employer's leg.
"Get out of my sight mechanic, you've pushed your luck far enough today," the Dark Lord bristled, obviously reaching the end of his meager patience on the subject. "My nerves are shot and I'm pretty sure we wouldn't want any accidents now would we?"
"Yeah... Accidents are bad," the Imperial conceded, taking Luke by the arm, "Come on Annakin, I need to show you around anyway..."
"Okay..." Luke softly agreed, putting away the last of the delicate tools before following him out of the maintenance hall.
Force, that was close...
Slowly, I brace myself against the side of Angel and hoist myself to my barely functioning prosthetics. The sharp sound of whirring machinery and scraping metal accompanied my movements
Calling them feet would be an insult to the human race.
To my annoyance, I find that the view screens within my helmet have also taken damage, and are now flickering irregularly as I survey the room.
Tentatively, I step forward, as to ensure the reliability of my wavering vision and groaning limbs. Finding no fault I simply march towards my quarters, having taken this much damage I couldn't risk being exposed for long.
Is it just my damaged vision, or is everyone staring at my boots? I ponder aimlessly as I pass by several officers.
Wait a minute... I don't recall having my boots put back on...
Trying not to rush, I slip into my chambers and look down at what should've been shiny armored boots. Instead, I find silver toes winking back at me, the pistons in my 'calves' visible as well.
"Poodoo."
"What was with Vader this morning?" Clancy questioned, looping an arm around Luke's neck, "I've never seen him grill a new recruit like that before."
"What do you mean?" Luke looked up at his companion, in slight confusion.
Rolling his eyes, the mechanic replied, " Remember when he was questioning you about your home world and your parents?"
"And my hair color?" Luke supplied, now recalling Vader's interrogation.
"Yeah, that was weird... Not as if he couldn't see your head or anything... Anyway, that was kind of unusual for him. Typically he looks in their direction, prods them with his 'powers' and sends em packing..." Clancy looked his young companion in the eyes.
"But you though... You're different. Vader must see something in you, or he would've disposed of you without a second thought. I didn't expect for him to keep you around, much less be put to work on his personal fighter! I haven't seen anything like it since… Well, me actually…"
Luke's eyes widened, "How did you come into his service anyway? It seems like he treats you like a friend, and you're the only one I've seen not cower in his presence… What's your story?"
Okay Clancy, you can do this! It's just a Star Destroyer and you're just a simple mechanic. No worries. Vader hunts officers, not grease monkeys…
The newly hired mechanic couldn't help his racing thoughts as he made his way through the barren halls. It was late in the sleep cycle aboard the great ship, and tinkering on things typically helped him work out his nerves back home on Naboo, so why not try it here?
Because you weren't breaking curfew on the ship of the most anal commander of all time back home!
At this realization, he couldn't help but glance over his shoulder, as if the mere disrespectful thought would summon Vader's wrath. Satisfied that the halls were decidedly free of murderous Supreme Commanders, he snuck his way into the main hangar. Inside, he could barely keep from drooling over the many assorted TIE fighters. Sleek and deadly, they were the fastest sub light star fighters in the galaxy! Clancy couldn't help his jealousy of the TIE pilots that had the privilege of flying amongst the stars.
Relaxing at the sight of so many ships, the mechanic began to scrutinize each one, searching for the optimal project to vent his worries on.
Man, couldn't they leave one for me to work on? Defeated, Clancy continued gazing at the already claimed TIES, the scattered tools and parts tipping him off to already started projects.
Eventually, he came across the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen.
It looked like a TIE Bomber, with its crook wings, but instead of sporting the distinctive dual hulls of the cumbersome bomber, it had a single large cockpit in the center. Everything about it radiated power. Deadly and austere strength and grace.
"Poodoo!"
"Gah!" Clancy gasped, leaping back and stumbling away from the sudden outburst from beneath the strange looking TIE. Glancing down, he noticed a pair of shiny black boots protruding from beneath the fighter.
Nothing to worry about, just a fellow mechanic doing a late night tune up I guess…
Gathering his courage, Clancy decided to at least make an attempt to be friendly.
Couldn't hurt to have some one to relate to after all.
"H-hello down there," the young mechanic approached shyly, "I was just admiring the ship you have here… Who flies her?"
"You mean Angel?" The boots replied, "I fly her actually…"
A pilot?! Working on his own ship? Awesome! He hadn't seen any TIE pilots that actually worked on their ships… Thus the need for mechanics like him.
"Really? I didn't know any pilots worked on these, just mechanics."
"Well," the black booted pilot-mechanic replied, "I'm somewhat of a special case. Can't trust anyone else to touch Angel here."
"Angel is her name?" Clancy inquired, crouching down to speak to the hidden figure.
"Yes."
This guy's head must be in a duct or something… Clancy considered, noticing the metallic twang in the other person's voice.
"What kind of ship is she? I've never seen a fighter quite like this!" The young Imperial now stroked one of the gleaming solar panels in admiration.
"She is a TIE Advanced, the only one of her kind." The boots shifted, as if he were reaching deeper into the innards of the ship. A slight pause as the sound of a power tool cut the silence. "What is a starship junkie such as yourself doing in here at such an hour anyway? I doubt Vader would approve."
"No kidding," Clancy looked down nervously, scuffing the floor with his boot, "Anyway, I came down to work on something… Couldn't sleep. It's my first night in space after all… Being aboard Vader's flagship doesn't help either."
"I see…" The metallic timbre replied, "You fear Vader? Do you expect him to come after you in the night like some bogeyman from a children's tale or something?"
"…Maybe."
A deep sigh emits from the bowels of the ship, "Typical of a new recruit I suppose… What else do you think of the Dark Lord?"
"To tell the truth," Clancy gulped, passing a black clad hand a hydrospanner, "I'm absolutely terrified of him! Those powers they say he has… He can kill people with a thought! Decimate entire armies on his own! I've heard he can even read minds and that he kills his own officers if they even look at him wrong! I can't imagine what I'd do if I ever ran into him! I'd be dead for sure!"
Strangely, a great mechanical chuckle filled the air, only interrupted by the hiss of a respirator.
Sith!
Clancy spun around, expecting to run into the Supreme Commander, only to find nothing. Turning back, he watched as the form of the pilot-mechanic became visible, the man in question coming up from beneath the ship.
Armored boots served as the base for an immense, leather-clad body, his broad shoulders and powerful physique reeked of strength and demanded respect.
But that wasn't what sent the mechanic scrambling, only to fall onto his backside.
What topped the body of his fellow late night curfew breaker was none other than the infamous death mask of Darth Vader himself.
"Didn't expect to have a civil conversation with him, did you?"
Still on the floor, the terrified mechanic could only shake his head mutely.
Holy kreth! He's gonna kill me for telling him what I thought about him! How was I to know that he was the one under there?!
"Have mercy milord, I had no idea it was you, a-and I was just r-repeating w-what I heard from the others! Don't kill me! I just really liked you're ship!" He curled into a ball, covering his head with his hands.
"It seems that some aspects of my reputation have gotten out of hand…" Vader remarked, throwing his omnipresent cloak over his silver plated shoulders, "I don't just kill people willy nilly as I please you know."
"Y-you don't?" Clancy uncovered his head and peeked upward to the Sith.
"Only if I am given a reason do I resort to such means, but if you continue with this pathetic display I might consider it a reason."
"Apologies milord," he now stood, saluting his superior.
"You may dispense with the pleasantries…" The Dark Lord drifted off in absence of the mechanic's name.
"Clancy."
"Clancy then." Vader finished, "I am tired, and have no wish to deal with military protocol tonight. Working in here is the only place I had away from officers and bootlickers, I have no wish for you to bring that with you here."
"Sorry…" Clancy dropped his military stiffness, "but what do I call you other than milord?"
"Anything, I don't really care at this point," Vader lazily waved, as he turned to inspect his ship before attempting to turn in for the rest of the ship's sleep cycle. "Just not Darth. Force I hate that…"
Alrighty then… I'll just add that to the list of things not to call him… Although, he doesn't want to deal with military protocol, and even calling him Vader is using a title…
"How about Vman?" He tried the nickname on an unusual streak of bravery in the situation he found himself in.
He had to admit that the courage didn't last long when Vader's head snapped up from his inspection of the starboard wing panels to meet his gaze.
"Really?"
"Why not?" He could feel his courage rush back," You said you wanted a break from Imperial protocol anyway… I figured that meant titles as well."
Couldn't be any worse than being called "Ani" all the time…
"Very well," Vader conceded, but only within this hangar, or when we are working on a ship, anywhere else I am Lord Vader or Supreme Commander to you. Understood?"
"Fully," Clancy tipped his head slightly before they both parted ways.
It was only when he had made it back to his quarters that he realized what had just happened.
Did he say when we work on a ship?! And I called him "Vman?!"
Collapsing on his bed, his last words of the night hissed on an exhaled breath.
"This is insane. Absolutely insane."